


Zones [Director's Cut]

by headless-killjoys (neepynoodles)



Series: the smoke will make your eyes bleed || dullahan AU [4]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bike Rides, Emotional Conversations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ghoul uses they/them, Hurt/Comfort, Kobra is ace, Other, Poison's only at the end but they're arospec, it's an AU but you really don't need context - it's all pretty self explanatory in this, they're gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24709864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neepynoodles/pseuds/headless-killjoys
Summary: It's then that the real problem rears its head."I need to get the fuck out of here." Ghoul says.And Kobra understands.---(Or: Ghoul and Kobra travel out to the edge of the zones to get out of their heads, and Ghoul briefly deals with the terrifying ordeal of being known.)
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Kobra Kid (Danger Days)
Series: the smoke will make your eyes bleed || dullahan AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1726312
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	Zones [Director's Cut]

**Author's Note:**

> it took me a month to write this longer version of my [Zone Five Quarantine Fair fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24088807) but it's finally finished!!! 
> 
> more of this au on my [tumblr!](https://headless-killjoys.tumblr.com/tagged/dullahan-au)

On days like this, there’s very little in the zones that can snap Fun Ghoul out of their funk. They’re sitting at one of the booths in the diner, muttering to themselves under their breath and fiddling with one of their bombs that’s splayed out across the booth table. The diner is a rare haven in the desert; safe enough for the fabulous four to call their home, but there is nowhere truly safe from Better Living unless you live at the edges of the zones where the radiation is thickest. 

Ghoul squints down at the wires, the red and the blue swirling together into purple as they huff, blowing their hair out of their eyes unsuccessfully. They’re too absorbed in their work to realise that the reason why their depth perception is off is because one of their eyes is an ugly purple and black and swollen from when they had stumbled and fallen earlier in the day. They grit their teeth and lean their head down further towards the table, attempting to get their screwdriver in the right spot but failing as their messy hair keeps falling back into their eyes. 

They don’t realise it’s been hours since they first sat down. The sun has slowly begun its descent and the dwindling light only makes their work harder. The deathly silence of the zones does little to calm them down. The desert is still, no acid rain or sandstorms for once. Ghoul swears under their breath, incoherent as their tone gets angrier and they begin to gnaw on their lip in frustration. Jet Star had told them to take a break hours ago, and had received a glare accompanied by silence in response. The bomb is for another killjoy and Ghoul is a perfectionist when it comes to their creations, even more so when they know it will be someone else behind the detonator. 

Kobra Kid watches silently from what was once the front bar of the diner, his helmet still securely on and his arms crossed. After Ghoul swears for the millionth time and slams their hands angrily against the table - before swearing _again_ as they send smaller pieces flying - Kobra sighs dramatically and walks over. He stands beside the seat opposite Ghoul, leaning against it instead of sitting down as he continues to watch. 

He recognises most of the parts being used, having used some of them before on his own mechanical projects, and where they came from. Some have definitely been scavenged from abandoned Better Living tech scattered around the zones, while others would have been bought from other zone rats or bartered for. Ghoul doesn’t seem to notice him standing there, not even when they throw their head back and release a long, low groan of frustration. It’s then that Kobra gets a good look at their black eye and he tilts his head to the side as best as he can with his helmet on and no head underneath. 

“You look like shit.” 

Perhaps not the nicest thing to say but the angry expression on Ghoul’s face isn’t aimed at him. Ghoul doesn’t seem to even register that he’s spoken at all. Their attention returns to the bomb and they continue muttering to themselves. Kobra could honestly watch them work forever. They’re the best in the zones at what they do; their knowledge of explosives is unparalleled and their skill at putting bombs together out of anything they can find still awes him. He walks over to linger beside Ghoul who headbutts him gently, hands too preoccupied to acknowledge his presence in any other way. It's a habit they've developed for when they need something, usually attention or when they want to show affection, but are otherwise too focused to verbalise it. It makes Kobra’s unbeating dullahan heart clench. 

“Fuck you.” Ghoul finally mutters back in response but their words lack any bite. It does get a laugh out of Kobra though. 

He runs his fingers through their hair, brushing most of it out of their face and trying to comb through the more knotted clumps as best as he can. It sticks up at odd angles in certain places, flicking up and refusing to stay down, but Kobra does his best. They headbutt him again, rubbing their greasy hair against the leather of his jacket. He steps closer until his shins are pressed to the side of the seat and he can hold Ghoul’s head close to maintain contact. They practically melt into his touch, even as their hands continue to fidget with the bomb. But their fingers are shaking and twitching more than usual from how long they’ve been sitting here working on this project. They’re stubborn as fuck, but Kobra has known them long enough by this point to see that they’re reaching their limit. He stays silent as their motions grow more frustrated, more tense, more aggressive; waiting for them to get it out of their system. 

“Ghoul. You're tapping your fingers against the tools more, you only do that when there's something else you're thinking about.” He starts, “You know you’re not gonna get anything done well like this. You need a break.” 

Ghoul's shoulders relax and they drop their tools down on the table, taking a shaky deep breath in. Their gaze darts all over the room as they gather all the bits and pieces spread out across the table into a neat pile. They know they aren't feeling fine, and they aren't trying to hide it, but there is still a moment of mortification that Kobra knows them well enough to notice little details. Their hands drop into their lap as they bounce their legs nervously. It's then that the real problem rears its head. 

"I need to get the fuck out of here." Ghoul says. 

And Kobra understands. He knows what they mean when they say that, he knows what they need. They turn to look up at him, exhaustion evident across their face despite the tense furrow of their eyebrows. Kobra silently presses two fingers there; his version of a kiss. Ghoul relaxes for a brief moment, before the tension returns and they hunch over the table once more. Kobra sighs again and makes his way towards the door of the diner, holding one of his arms back behind him; an invitation. Ghoul’s attention is on him enough that they notice, and they follow. They slide their hand into his, intertwining their fingers together as they fall into step behind him. 

On days like this, when the sky is painted with streaks of orange and lavender, when the desert air has cooled, the outer zones call to them. And sometimes they just want to run and leave it all behind, forget everything they've done to build up their image and who people know them as. Fun Ghoul lets go of Kobra Kid’s hand as they step outside the diner, a rare breeze blows their hair out of their face and they cast their gaze towards the road, turning their back to the looming silhouette of Battery City in the distance. They begin walking towards the trans am out of habit, their hands tucked into the pockets of their pants with their arms close to their sides. The same tension is still in their posture, like an unseen burden upon their shoulders that no amount of adrenaline and explosives can remove. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Kobra calls out softly, just loud enough to be heard in Ghoul's good ear. 

Ghoul stops. They feel a panic creep up on them, a chill up their spine reaching for their throat. They relax their shoulders and turn around to face Kobra with a wide grin. It all comes crashing down on them in an instant now that they’re out of the diner, and they become all too aware that their walls have come down. They feel bare, exposed, _seen_ in a way that they hate. They’re Fun Ghoul. They aren’t meant to be thrown off like this, to be anything other than reckless and wild, Their grin is forced, doesn’t reach their eyes, but they put a spring in their step as they make their way towards Kobra, seated on his sleek matte black motorcycle. They clamber on, sitting behind him like they’ve done this a million times. 

Ghoul has gone out before, driving towards the edge of the zones with the windows of the trans am down and the setting sun behind them, but they’ve never gone with Kobra. He’s come after them before, sure, and they’ve greeted him with that same wild grin as they press the detonator to set off a chain of explosives in an empty patch of desert. 

Going _with_ Kobra feels different. They’re used to keeping their walls up - their mask on, in more ways than one. Each crack in the facade is mended carefully, patched up and sewn back together, because they have an image to maintain. In the Zones, in their crew, they have to be confident and reckless and unafraid to cause mayhem. Whenever people see them, the _real_ them that they keep hidden behind glowing eyes and a smile that’s more a baring of teeth than anything else, people get hurt. So they keep it all hidden, tucked away, a sight only for the outer zones and the Phoenix Witch to see. 

They’re jerked from their thoughts by the sudden rush of wind whipping their messy hair away from their face as Kobra sets off. His motorcycle is deathly silent as always, and faster than any other vehicle in both the Zones and the City; perks of being a dullahan. Ghoul lets their arms wrap around Kobra’s waist and the blurry glimpses of the zones flash by. They don’t want to worry, to care, to think. But it’s okay, because Kobra understands, he understands when Ghoul gets like this; when their brain is too fucking loud and they can’t bring themselves to talk about it. And maybe that’s because Kobra goes through it too, when there’s a heavier weight to his silence that Ghoul has learned to recognise, when Kobra goes more days without sleep than usual and seems to curl in on himself more. 

They pass through Zone 3 in what must be a few minutes but it feels like mere seconds to Ghoul. Just long enough for the vague colours of graffiti and dyed hair illuminated by torches to blur together and whizz by in front of their eyes. A mob of motorbabies and crash queens in thick leather and neon accessories speeding across the road right in front of them in a thick stream makes Ghoul’s forehead knock right into the back of Kobra’s helmet as he hits the brakes. Now that they’ve stopped, Ghoul can hear the whispers of the ones passing by as they spot Kobra. Whispers of confusion, questioning where the dullahan is going, or rather, who he’s going to reap. Ghoul turns their head to rest their chin on Kobra’s shoulder and suddenly there are more double takes aimed at the two of them. They’re surprised until they remember their eyes glow bright neon green, and they don’t blink often. What a terrifying sight they must make the two of them, even with Ghoul’s swollen eye. A known reaper of souls and the explosives expert who stares with glowing eyes, the only part of them that’s clearly visible in the rapidly darkening night. Kobra turns his head over his shoulder, as if to face Ghoul even though his voice emanates from his helmet in all directions, not from a mouth beneath said helmet. 

“You want to do something cool?” He asks, even as he’s already inching his bike backwards slowly, winding up for something. 

Ghoul grins, “As if I would ever say no.” 

Kobra laughs, his voice echoed and layered, and Ghoul can _feel_ it through where their chest is pressed against his back. It makes them feel warm, and they tighten their arms around him. Smoke billows around them, seemingly coming from nowhere and everywhere all at once, and if they squint, Ghoul thinks they can see some slowly seeping out from where Kobra’s helmet meets his neck. They don’t get the chance to dwell on it because Kobra hits the gas, driving directly into the stream of crash queens in front of them but then the world around them blurs and fades to black. There’s nothing but black smoke in their vision and something squeaks above them but when Ghoul looks up all they see is more darkness until their gaze lands on something bone white and staring back at them. A bird beak on a white mask, surrounded by feathers and talons and smiling at them with their eyes. The back of Ghoul’s neck aches. They look ahead again just as the black smoky world disappears, like a dark curtain being pulled back, and the Zones come back into view; only this time, they and Kobra are on the other side of the road, continuing on like nothing happened. 

“Shadow travelling is harder when I’m not near a mailbox but that was still cool, huh?” 

“So fucking cool.” Ghoul agrees. 

They don’t have to ask who it was they saw. They know. They’d recognise the presence of the Phoenix Witch anywhere. 

They fall back into silence as Kobra kicks up the speed again but it’s comfortable. Ghoul’s thoughts are getting too loud in their head again. They’re not quite sure what they’re feeling; it’s as if someone has grabbed all their thoughts and jumbled them together into an incoherent mess. There’s bits and pieces floating around, semi-formed thoughts and emotions that collide and swirl when they close their eyes. So they keep them open, staring out across the open desert. Miles upon miles of sand and buildings, some abandoned from before the wars, some refurbished and repurposed into something new; into homes. Unlike the city, the desert lets them just exist as themselves, in all their coloured glory. 

The long ride is a blessing and a curse. The whispers of their thoughts grow louder but the space and the cold air that surrounds them is freeing. Ghoul’s almost disappointed when they arrive at their usual spot on the edge of Zone 6 and Kobra stops his bike along the side of what was once flat ground but is now a large crater courtesy of one of Ghoul’s previous visits. Ghoul takes a moment to press a soft kiss to the back of Kobra’s neck before they slip off the motorbike. It’s a fleeting kiss, just barely a brush of their lips against his skin. They can’t help the grin that spreads across their face as they slide down the side of the crater, barely letting their boots hit the ground again before they fling themselves onto the ground at the bottom, letting their back hit the dirt with a soft thump as they stare up at the sky. 

They hear Kobra follow them down but he chooses to sit with his back against the crater’s walls instead. Ghoul lifts a hand to brush their hair out of their eyes before letting their hand flop back down. They don’t know if it was the ride here that calmed them down or the feeling of the stable ground against their back and the stars sparkling in the sky. The feelings are still there, but the words don’t feel so heavy on their tongue anymore. 

“Kobes?” 

Kobra hums, and Ghoul hears the sound of his switchblade opening as he fidgets. They’ve seen him in action with it and they’d be lying if they said there wasn’t a beauty to his movements. But then again, they see beauty in everything Kobra does. 

“Thanks.” Their voice comes out much quieter than they intended. 

Kobra hums again and Ghoul hears the sound of his boots scraping along the sand as he stretches his legs out. “No problem.” He replies a few moments later, his voice sounding unsure, “But for what?” 

Ghoul shrugs one shoulder as best as they can, “This. Taking me here.” 

The silence that falls is thick with tension and unspoken words and Ghoul hates it. It’s a silence that they recognise from Kobra but they don’t know what it _means_. It makes their stomach do flips and they lick their lips before they continue. 

“Thanks for being the best fucking boyfriend.” 

Kobra lets out a surprised laugh at that and the tension melts away, Ghoul relaxes into the ground at the sound and their smile returns, softer than a grin. They push themselves up onto their elbows to look at him, unaware that their adoration is written plain and clear across their face. 

“I mean it. Thank you.” 

Kobra tilts his head, pocketing his switchblade again and bending one knee to wrap his arms around it as he stares at Ghoul. Even without facial expressions, Ghoul knows that posture and that slight shift in his shoulders. He tilts his head a fraction of an inch to the left and Ghoul mimics the motion. 

“What are you thinking about now?” They ask, staring at how the moonlight shines off the sides of his helmet. 

Ghoul can _hear_ the smile in his voice as he answers, “You.” 

He pats the space to his left and Ghoul slides themselves along the ground until they’re sitting beside Kobra with barely any space between their bodies. Kobra takes one of their hands, intertwining their fingers together as he faces them in silence. 

“You wanna talk about what’s up?” 

“Gotta finish that bomb before the end of the week.” Ghoul answers immediately. 

It’s funny. They’re fairly certain they know where this conversation is going because Kobra isn’t an idiot and he has an uncanny ability to read them through their walls. But sitting here beside him, holding his hand tight as if it’s the last thing tethering them to the present, the fear isn’t so suffocating. It’s less of a chokehold and more of a cold set of claws lightly pressing against their throat as a threat. 

“Ghoul-” 

“There’s just… a lot.” They take a sudden interest in their mismatched boots. 

_I’m scared that people will see who I am, or I’ll let them down, and they’ll leave. I’m good at what I do, but I’m scared it’s just a fluke. I’m scared I’ll never be good enough to live up to what or who people think I am. Because every time I open up, I hurt people and they leave._ They want to say. _I’m terrified that you’ll see the real me, that you’ll find out more about me and you’ll realise that you deserve better. I’m terrified of losing you._

“I _am_ stressed about that bomb though.” They finally say after what feels like hours of intense silence. 

“There’s more to it though, isn’t there?” Kobra’s voice is prodding but gentle, like he’s simply cracking the door open and waiting to see if Ghoul will open it further or close it entirely. His hand around Ghoul’s is warm and comforting and they shuffle closer to him, pressing their arms together. 

Kobra watches them silently, throat tight as he waits for a reaction - any reaction - from them, afraid that he’s crossed the line. He squeezes their hand gently, rubbing small circles with his thumb, as he waits. He hears Ghoul open their mouth to speak before closing it, repeating the motions a few times as they shuffle closer. He struggles not to bounce his bent left leg, getting restless at the faraway look in Ghoul’s green eyes. He sees the corners of their lips twitch up as they bend their right leg to nudge their shoe against his, gently moving it towards them until they can comfortably slide their own leg beneath his. Once they deem their legs sufficiently tangled with his, they sigh and relax a little against him. 

“I…” It’s only one word but Kobra can hear how strained their voice is and he can see their gaze darting back and forth around them, between the ground and the sky. 

"You don't have to." He says quickly, "If you don't want to, if you're not ready, you don't have to tell me. It won't change how I feel about you, Ghoul." 

A look of relief flashes across their face. Perhaps one day they won't be terrified to bare their heart to Kobra, to let him in and let him _see_ them. A faint part of them already knows he's seen more than anyone else has before, but he still stays. Ghoul’s not sure they’ll ever understand why, but they’re grateful. They’re fairly certain the feeling is mutual, after all. Their shoulders relax and they nudge him gently with an elbow, a grin spreading across their face as they look up at him. There’s a gleam in their eye that Kobra knows all too well. 

"What _am_ I to you?" They ask. 

Kobra falls silent. _My stars_ , he wants to say; _my detonator - as cheesy as that may be, - my friend, my partner. You are a source of warmth I never knew I could still feel, you hold my hand and I know I'll be okay. Do you - could you? - understand what that is like? I can feel a heartbeat when I’m with you although I have none. It’s_ you _. You battered your way in, blew up any defences I had, and you don’t even realise do you? You mean more than the world to me._

He could go on. But he knows what type of answer Ghoul needs, and he isn't sure he'd be able to get all those words out right now anyway, not when they feel thick in his throat and he’s terrified that he’ll accidentally push Ghoul away. Deep down, he knows that he would tear apart the universe for them, and that realisation doesn’t scare him as much as it should. 

"A menace." he answers, "But you're _my_ menace." 

"Damn right I am!" Ghoul laughs, the sound is more like their usual cackle and they both know the door of the previous conversation has closed. 

The silence that follows is a comfortable one again, the closest thing to normalcy they have in the zones. There's a chaos brewing beneath the peaceful surface, messy hair like dark paint splayed against a red canvas as Ghoul rests their head against Kobra's shoulder. They adjust their position and let out a hiss of pain when they lift their head up to speak and inadvertently knock their black eye against the dullahan's helmet. Ghoul pulls away, bending their neck down as their other hand raises to tentatively press against their eye in an attempt to soothe it. Kobra laughs softly, a teasing undertone to the sound, as he lifts a hand to take his helmet off. It takes him longer than he'd like to admit, much longer than if he used both hands, but he's reluctant to let go of Ghoul's hand. 

"There." He says as he places the helmet in the sand beside him, "Better?" 

His signature dark smoke begins to billow from the stump of his neck, curling in the air before dissipating. His voice still sounds layered, but it's louder now, and Ghoul can hear the different voices speak slightly out of sync with each other. It's a chilling sound they don't think they'll ever get sick of. 

Ghoul leans their head back down against his shoulder, "Better." 

They're looking up at him, at where his face would be, and Kobra can see how green their eyes are, but he wishes he could look at them with his actual eyes. He feels one of their legs press tighter against his and without thinking, he reaches his free hand over to cup Ghoul's cheek. His thumb runs lightly over the edges of their lips before brushing against their black eye, making them hiss in pain. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Duh, it’s a black eye.” Ghoul mumbles, closing that eye but still pressing their face against his touch. 

“Well I’ve,” Kobra seems to shrink in on himself, “I’ve never had one so…” 

“Never?”

“No.” He gestures towards the smoke billowing out of his neck, “Cos… you know.” 

“Not even as a kid?” 

“Nope.” Kobra shakes his shoulders as if shaking his head. 

“Well, I was always clumsy as fuck, even in my old crew.” Ghoul laughs, faltering as Kobra remains silent, his thumb still rubbing small circles. 

“I think I’ve been without my head longer than I had it.” Kobra says quietly, not quite mumbling the words, but it’s clear he would be if he wasn’t taking into consideration Ghoul’s deaf ear. It sounds like a secret. 

“I thought you weren’t born a dullahan?” They ask. 

“I wasn’t.” 

The implications in those two words settle in the silence between them. There’s a million questions Ghoul wants to ask but the one that sits on the tip of their tongue is “ _You and Poison became dullahans as_ ** _kids_** _?_ ” but the words won’t leave their mouth. Instead, they try to keep their tone light as they turn their head, moving their hand to pull their hair away from the back of their neck. 

“How many do I have left?” They ask, feeling him run a finger over the scars and tally marks on the back of their neck. The marks that dictate how many lifetimes they have to live. They began with ten, but the marks turn to thin scars one by one each time they use up a life, each time they’re a little too reckless. 

“Ghoul-” Kobra begins. 

They take a shaky breath in. 

“I want to spend all of them with you.” It’s their turn to be quiet now, holding their breath as Kobra falls silent once more. 

Kobra melts at Ghoul’s words, his hands almost shaking as he continues to stare at the marks. The smoke emanating from his neck thickens as he makes a choice - only one of them can have their head at a time… but Poison could survive a few hours without theirs, he decides. The black smoke condenses as he ducks down, solidifying as he summons his head back from the Phoenix Witch’s domain and a scar forms around his neck where it connects. He knows that back at the diner, Poison’s own head has just dissolved into white smoke. He doesn’t trust himself to speak yet, but he presses his lips to the back of Ghoul’s neck in a kiss just as they had done to him earlier. 

“Six left.” he whispers. 

Unfortunately, Kobra’s lips are ice cold, and before Ghoul fully realises what he’s doing, their head snaps up and they jolt, knocking the back of their head against Kobra’s from the sudden movement. Kobra swears loudly, pulling himself away with one hand pressed to his right eye. 

“Shit- Sorry! Maybe now you’ll know what a black eye is li-” Ghoul snickers, their voice trailing off as they turn towards Kobra and their jaw goes slack as they get a good look at his face, illuminated by moonlight. “Holy shit.” 

Kobra smirks and Ghoul feels themselves choke on a breath as the movement causes the light to glint off the two snakebite piercings that sit just below his lower lip. Several strands of blond hair flop over his face, partially obscuring one of his eyes and Ghoul lifts their hand to brush it back up with the rest, never taking their eyes off his piercings. It’s not the first time they’ve seen his face, but it still leaves them breathless. The angle they’re both sitting at means that Ghoul can’t see the colour of Kobra’s eyes but they know they’re a stunning hazel. 

“Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at my piercings all night?” Kobra teases. 

“Forgot that it’s not just Poison that has th-” Ghoul’s gaze snaps up to meet Kobra’s, “Poison..?” 

“Pfft, they can survive without their head for a bit.” He scoffs, he leans towards Ghoul as he presses his back to the wall of the crater again, allowing the moonlight to shine on their face instead, “It’s my turn now.” 

He pauses, reaching a hand forward to gently hold Ghoul’s chin and angling their face in such a way that their head is tilted towards the light. In the glow, the difference between their brown eye and their green eye is so much clearer to Kobra, and even more so with his actual head. 

“Your eyes…” He whispers reverently. It makes Ghoul’s chest tighten at the sound. “They’re so _pretty_ , what the _fuck_.” 

“That’s pretty gay, Kobes.” Ghoul giggles, more than aware that a blush has started creeping up their cheeks as they grin. “Are you gonna kiss me or just stare at my eyes all night?” 

Kobra rolls his eyes but bends down to kiss them without another word. They lean in towards him eagerly as his hand softly cups the back of their head, gloved fingers tangling into their hair. They want to hold onto this moment for as long as they can, like an anchor keeping them grounded at this point in time. Kobra's lips against theirs as they kiss back harder and he makes a small noise of surprise. It's a moment they want to remember. But it’s over all too soon. Kobra breaks the kiss and Ghoul finds themselves leaning forward as he pulls away, desperately chasing his lips. 

“Sorry,” Kobra laughs, breathless, “I’m not used to breathing.” there’s a pause, “You take my breath away.” 

Ghoul laughs along as Kobra slings an arm over their shoulder, holding them close. 

“You’re sappy, you know that?” 

Kobra laughs harder, pulling them both back to lean against the crater wall again. A cold gust of wind sweeps through and he feels Ghoul huddle closer to him for warmth. The feeling of metal against his wrist makes him turn his head sharply to stare at his arm slung over their shoulders. They’ve reached up to hold onto his wrist lightly, effectively keeping the weight of his arm there, but the glint of black metal on their finger is what captures his attention. It’s a ring in the shape of a cobra, coiled around their finger. Kobra remembers the night he made it, when he had snuck into Jet’s room to ask him to super heat the metal enough for Kobra to shape it. Ghoul’s eyes had lit up the next day when he had gifted it to them, and that look stays preserved forever in his memory. 

“Kobra?” 

“You’re wearing it.” He manages to say, still staring. 

“Uh, yeah?” Ghoul replies, because they know exactly what he’s referring to without asking, “Of course I am.” 

“And you said _I’m_ sappy.” 

“You _are!_ You _made_ this for me.” 

“You like it.” His smile is subtle and soft, Ghoul wishes they could photograph this moment. 

“I _love_ it.” They respond. 

There’s a comfortable silence that falls between them as Ghoul smiles, leaning their head to rest on Kobra’s shoulder. One of their hands reaches into their pocket to pull out their butterfly knife, to stim. The sky above them is a spectacular purple, decorated with shining stars unhidden by clouds. 

On nights like this, there’s very little in the zones that can snap Fun Ghoul out of their funk. They want to stand up and keep walking, explore the outer zones, go further and further away from Battery City. But there is too much in the zones keeping them here. The markets and their noise and colour, busy and bustling, where everyone is packed in like sardines. The fairs and the celebrations; you take the little victories where you can out in the desert. The fuel of the drag races, the smoke trails as the racers ride like comets towards the finish line. The intoxicating smell of spray paint that lingers as evidence a burner was nearby recently, the discarded cans lying around the desert as their bright colours are poured out. 

And, of course, their friends. They have no intention of leaving any of them behind. 

Kobra is a solid and constant presence beside them at this moment. A comfort, an anchor against the chaotic tides that threaten to pull them out away from the shore. On nights like this, where the winds are still and the zones call out to them, this is all Ghoul needs. Not the ringing sound of a detonation in their ears, not the plume of smoke or the blazing glow of a fire, not the satisfying click as they puts their bombs together, not the terrifying lure of the unexplored zones, not the feeling of their hair being whipped back away from their face as they drive the trans am recklessly down Route Guano with the windows down. 

Just this. Just the quiet of the zones, punctuated by the occasional distant howl. Just the feeling of a warm arm around them as they both stare up at the endless night. Just this one moment, when there’s only the zones and them, when the rest of the world melts away. 

They sit together like that until the first rays of daylight start to shine through the violet sky. 

Kobra is the first to speak up, sighing as he leans against Ghoul. 

“We should probably get back.” 

Ghoul makes a small noise of disappointed agreement in response, letting Kobra untangle their legs and watching as he stands to brush dirt off of his legs. He offers his hand out to them and there is a brief moment where they feel the impulse to take it and pull him back down with them. He sees it coming, however, and pulls his hand back before Ghoul can grab it, rolling his eyes as he takes a step back. 

“The others are gonna get worried.” He huffs, but there’s amusement in his eyes. 

Ghoul pushes themselves up off the ground, groaning as they stretch their arms out before bending backwards to stretch their back. They can hear some of their joints pop in concerning ways but neither of them comment on the sounds. They stifle a yawn as they roll their ankles one at a time, frowning as they come to a stop standing in front of Kobra, only centimetres apart. He raises an eyebrow at them, his hands in his pockets as Ghoul returns their knife to their own pocket. 

“You’re too tall.” They grumble, “I don’t think I like you with your head anymore.” 

“Just grow taller.” Kobra snickers. 

"Fuck that, I'll just steal your fucking kneecaps." 

As soon as the words are out of their mouth, Ghoul can see Kobra take a small step back, struggling to hold back his laughter at what must be a _hilarious_ response he has in mind. 

"Can you-" He's laughing too hard, clutching his stomach as he prepares to make a run for it towards his bike, "Can you even reach?" 

The noise Ghoul makes is shrill and undignified as Kobra scrambles up the side of the crater. Ghoul manages to latch onto one of his ankles, pulling him down and onto them. The sand gets violently kicked up in the struggle but the dust settles as Ghoul pins Kobra down, straddling his hips to keep him from escaping. They're both laughing too hard to get any words out, Kobra takes deep heaving breaths in as Ghoul bends down to blow a loud raspberry against his throat. 

“Fuck you.” 

“No thanks.” Kobra laughs. 

“You know what I mean.” Ghoul rolls off of him to stand up again, ignoring the sand and dust that has made its home on the legs of their pants. 

“Yeah, I know.” Kobra stands up and rolls his shoulders a few times. Ghoul can see the ends of his hair beginning to fade off into wisps of smoke. 

He grins slowly and has the audacity to lift a hand and ruffle Ghoul’s hair. They huff and grab onto his jacket, pulling him close even as he’s already bending down. The kiss is warm and electrically cliche but they both melt into it. Kobra’s hands rest against Ghoul’s shoulders, while their arms snake their way around his waist. They hold onto each other until they have to part, and there’s a bittersweet moment that lingers in the air as Kobra’s head fades into smoke once more. He bends down to pick up his helmet again, twisting it back on over the stump of his neck, and then he takes Ghoul’s hand in his own and they walk back to the bike together. 

The ride back to the diner is quiet and uneventful for the most part, but it takes them a few minutes longer than it should have as Kobra swerves off the road to avoid an incoming BLi patrol. Everything is the same as they had left it hours ago by the time they finally do make it home. Ghoul clambers off the motorcycle with more grace than they knew they were capable of, and in the glow of the sun’s light, the silhouette of Battery City on the horizon fills them with cold dread. 

Kobra steps in front of them, blocking their view of the city with his body. He kicks the stand of his bike down as Ghoul shrugs in response to his unspoken question. 

“Feeling better?” 

They blink a few times, not having expected Kobra to actually verbalise it. He looks as awkward as Ghoul feels. There’s comfort in that. Neither are usually particularly good with speaking, but together, they don’t need as many words. There’s a dozen more unspoken questions in the way Kobra’s gaze feels on them, in the way his shoulders hunch as he shuffles on his feet. But they don’t have to be spoken. The two of them just understand. 

“Yeah. Yeah I am.” Ghoul grins. 

“After you?” Kobra sweeps his arms towards the doors dramatically and Ghoul laughs as they swing both doors open and stride inside. 

Poison is half asleep, curled up against Jet beneath one of the thicker blankets they have. They raise an eyebrow as the two of them enter before shrugging and pressing themselves closer towards Jet to steal his warmth. Jet himself, on the other hand, offers them a smile as his hands continue to braid Poison’s hair. 

"Gross." Ghoul teases, laughing as Jet rolls his eyes. 

Poison flips them off and Ghoul laughs harder, that familiar mischievous spark is visible in their eyes again and Kobra knows exactly what they're planning. He's already pulling his helmet off, letting his smoke twist, and his head take form as Ghoul grabs him by the jacket to pull him down for a kiss that's wet and messy and accompanied by them reaching up to hold his face. It's perfect. 

There's a strangled noise from Poison off to the side that he's faintly aware of as their head suddenly disappears and Jet begins coughing out the mouthful of white dullahan smoke he had suddenly inhaled, but nothing exists for Kobra except Ghoul. 

He'll end up with a Mousekat head thrown at him later and a bruise that won't go away for days, but it's all worth it for the bright smile on Ghoul's face and the stars in their eyes. 


End file.
